


Oblivion

by Kalliria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Death, Drowning, F/M, Injury, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalliria/pseuds/Kalliria
Summary: Bucky's girlfriend reminisces on their relationship as she dies.





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> More on my tumblr: https://kalliria.tumblr.com/

I died on a Tuesday.

The sun was shining brightly, seagulls being the only flash of white in an otherwise clear blue sky. I was floating on my back, the water cold against my skin. Beneath me, Bucky’s arms kept me anchored above the surface. It was useless. There was an ocean in my lungs and my heart was as still as a statue.

But Bucky held on to me, his face contorted in anger. Or was it grief? I couldn’t tell.

It had been such a beautiful day. Marseille was a delight in summer, music echoing through the narrow streets, laughing children chasing each other through bustling crowds. The smell of fish, spices and meat hung heavily in the air as we weaved through markets, our hands intertwined. Bucky hated crowds but I talked and talked, distracting him from the hundreds or tourists and locals surrounding us. We were the only one who mattered.

The ring on Bucky’s finger flashed gold as he closed my eyes.

 _Don’t_ , I wanted to scream.  _Let me see you._

But the dead do not speak. Was this to be my fate? Condemned to remain in this world, blind and mute, while my lover’s heart broke above me?

 _“Losing your life is not the worst thing that can happen,”_  an author I couldn’t remember the name of had written one day.  _“The worst thing is to lose your reason for living.”_  He was wrong. The worst thing was to die so young, you hadn’t yet found it.

Bucky could have been my reason to live, had we had more time. More time to know and love each other, to fight and scream and hate too. More time to heal. But the Fates knew no mercy. Atropos had cut the string of my life with her abhorred shears, as her sisters watched wordlessly.

Together, Bucky and I had forgotten the past. But the past had not forgotten us. And when it had come knocking at the door, there was nothing I could do but close my eyes and try not to scream.

Bodies, some bloody, some simply broken, floated around us. I pitied them, those men that had drowned me in my own pool. They had no one to hold them as they died. Who would cry for them? Wives, husbands, parents or children? Beloved pets? There was only silence now.

Bucky would blame himself for my death. And in a way, he would be right to. Before Bucky, I was no one. The most civilian of civilians, an unknown face in the crowd. But because I had been his, a target was painted on my back. And I had been foolish enough to believe no one would shoot.

I wasn’t angry. What was the point? What would it change? I was dead. And tired.

 _Enough_ , I thought.  _Let me be done with this._

Oblivion would be better than this strange consciousness, remaining only so that I could regret the life I’d had and the one I would never know. How long would I linger in Bucky’s arms, an unwilling witness to his grief? I would rather drown a thousand times than stay like this one more second.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. There was no emotion in his voice, no clue as to what he was feeling. I wished my eyes were open. I wished I could see his face, look into his eyes one more time.

I remembered the first time I’d seen him, walking through the busy streets of Bucharest, head down, a bag of plums in his hands. Every day, for a month, he had passed me. Always with fruits in his hands, staring at the concrete. Had I been smarter, I would have realized the danger that covered him like a cloak and thanked the gods he hadn’t seen me. But I was an idiot and one day, I had planted myself in his path, asking for his name in my butchered Romanian.

My fate had been sealed the moment his surprised and wary eyes had crossed mine.

But still, as I lay lifeless in his arms, I couldn’t regret following him as he fled, from country to country. Bulgaria, Greece, Croatia, Switzerland…France. We had little money, even with my own savings, but we had felt like kings, making love on shitty mattresses and eating instant ramen as if it was caviar.  _“True love stories never have endings,”_ I’d told him breathlessly as his lips trailed down my neck one night.  _“Together, we are immortal.”_

How wrong I’d been.

‘I should have been here,’ Bucky whispered above me.

Yes. Yes, he should have. I was alone when the men came, alone when their hands closed around my arms and they dragged me outside. Alone when one of them slammed my head against the stone. Alone when another ripped my wedding ring off my finger, tearing the skin and breaking the bone. Alone when they had pushed me into the pool and held me underneath. Alone as I suffocated, drowned, died.

 _You promised_ , I tried to say.  _You promised you’d keep me safe._

If my lips moved, I didn’t feel it. If I said the words, Bucky did not hear them.

How many promises had been broken today? How many possibilities? Maybe we could have built a life together. Built a house by a lake. Have had children. Two, a boy and a girl with my hair and his eyes. I would have gone back to my old job, supporting our little family as Bucky stayed home and took care of the kids. I wanted a boring life, to live until I died of cancer at ninety-two years old. Not be killed for revenge at twenty-five.

Bucky was crying. I could feel his tears fall on my cheeks like small bombs exploding against my skin. Each felt like a death sentence, another proof that I was gone. But I wasn’t, not yet. What was I waiting for? Where was my heaven? Or maybe I was in hell, and this was my torture.

_Just let me go. Please._

I don’t know if Bucky heard my prayer. Or maybe he couldn’t bear to hold me anymore. His lips touched mine, pressing gently. They moved to my cheek, my temple, my forehead. He held me against him, choking on his own sobs. And then, he let me go. I sank, water surrounding me until it was all I could feel. I was weightless.

With one last echo of Bucky’s name, I faded into Oblivion.


End file.
